Dolores

Sipping my morning camellia tea
while the garden shadows flicker about me,
reflecting on my deep San Francisco roots,
and pondering why love remains so aloof.

This day I shall walk to the Dolores school
to saunter in the vapor trails of my mother's young shoes,
and I shall trace the ghost of the Dolores Creek
that vanished with its lagoon into mystery.

Soul repaired by the loving airs that silent tears share,
I shall leave all of my worries and my sorrows there.